


Kitchen

by nsfwgarbagedump



Series: Love Series [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Depression, Dissociation, Gaster "I Fuck My Children" Skeleton, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 12:12:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19376467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nsfwgarbagedump/pseuds/nsfwgarbagedump
Summary: A short story about potential scenes that just didn't make the cut of the original Love. This is what happens when u add all the little deprived minds in my server and let them loose. Credit to @pentoll for the wonderful idea!!!





	Kitchen

**Author's Note:**

> This won't make sense if you haven't read Love.

There wasn’t anything particularly out of the ordinary on this day. 

 

It was just regular old snowdin town, snowy and quiet, joyful and bright. 

 

Papyrus was cleaning the house and practically had to drag Sans over to the kitchen so he could help around the house in  _ some _ way. He was determined to clean the house from top to bottom, including the roof!

 

Sans had kitchen duty this time, it really wasn’t so bad.

 

They were just dishes, the soapsuds bubbled up and clung to every surface he touched, his phalanges covered in the little rivulets of foamy water, clinging to the tips of his fingers before dropping down into the dirty sink water. Sans had scrubbed the same dish over, and over, and over, rubbing circles into the now pristine plate with a dish sponge that had most certainly seen better days.

 

He didn’t know what it was about the motion of cleaning the dishes that had him entranced, eyes glazed as they stared off into the distance, out of the window before him and into the forest behind their house. It gave him a small comfort, as if he could leave whenever he wanted, like he wasn’t here at this particular moment. His senses were dulled, his mind focusing intently and unseeingly on something he could barely even think to fathom.

 

He desperately wanted to escape.

 

His hands scrubbed at the plate, perfectly round circles around the rim until the dishes sparkled.   
  


Dish.

 

He’s only been cleaning one dish.

 

The more he stared out the window the more his mood seemed to drop, his thoughts careening down into something nonsensical and detached. There wasn’t anything he was particularly thinking of, not anything that he would remember anyway.

 

Yet he felt he needed to  _ escape _ something, somehow.

 

His breath came out even, smooth, slow. There was nothing to think about.

 

His hands scrubbed perfectly round, smooth, slow circles into the dish until it sparkled.

 

Perhaps he should wear gloves, to prevent the dishes from getting dirty. He had washed his hands but there was this slimy feeling over his fingers, like they needed to be cleaned. But this was a kind of feeling he couldn’t seem to scrub away.

 

Was he forgetting something?

 

The snow outside was so pristine, white, clean, everything he...wants to be. But he is. He is clean. Sans is sure he showered. 

 

His hands scrubbed a round, smooth circle into the dish, his hands ached.

 

Sans stopped.

 

“I need to cook dinner.” 

 

Odd. 

 

He doesn’t remember Papyrus telling him to cook dinner and yet he distinctly remembers knowing that he needs to make dinner or... 

 

His mind felt foggy and he felt unsure. He felt dread crawling down his back.

 

He placed the dish down and began gathering the ingredients to make a nice, healthy meal for...who was he making dinner for? Why was he making dinner in the first place? This was a strange occurrence, it was rare that Papyrus even let him cook after he started cooking lessons with Undyne.

 

Yet his body moved like it was on autopilot, gather the ingredients, get the pans, sautee the broccoli and mushrooms to perfection-  and don’t you  _ dare _ burn anything \- add some garlic and ginger, brown the chicken-  it better be  _ perfect _ , Sans \- steam the rice and…

 

Where did he learn this?

 

He momentarily stopped, taking in his surroundings, a near spotless kitchen, one washed dish, and a perfectly cooked meal. He’s never cooked this. How would he know?

 

Sans barely even noticed as he set his hands down perilously close to the still hot surface of their stovetop. Something was missing. Some _ one _ was missing.

 

The presence behind him didn’t even register. 

 

Not until it was too late.

 

He could feel the breath on his neck, the hands at his shoulders, moving down his arms and around his waist. The gentle kisses peppered down the back of his dress.

 

Dress?

 

“Sans? Are you okay?”

 

There was a hand on his shoulder.

 

His grip on the stove top tightened, his fingers barely registered the burn.

 

“Brother, your hands-”

 

_ Hands, why were there so many hands? _

 

Another hand on his shoulder and he couldn’t take it anymore, he started shaking. His breath stuttered and his tears came out unprompted and uncontrollable. He heaved and sobbed with every tremor that racked his body, bones clattering with the force of his movements. 

 

Why was he crying?

 

It was only Papyrus.

 

“Sans! Why are you crying- oh no, oh no, did I do something? I’m so sorry!”

 

Papyrus would never hurt him.

 

And yet, he still shied away from his brother’s touch, crouching down onto the kitchen floor blubbering and stumbling over his words of, “Don’t look at me, please don’t touch me, don’t touch me, don’t touch-” a mantra repeated without cause.

 

Sans was  _ terrified _ and he couldn’t think of a single reason as to why that would be. He’s never gotten hurt, no one has any reason to even  _ think  _ of hurting him so  _ why _ ,  **_why_ ** was he reacting this way. He’s forgetting something and it hurts, it hurts not knowing what’s  _ wrong _ .

 

He just wanted to  _ know. _

 

Papyrus was worried, truly worried now judging by his silent staring, his back tense and ramrod straight. He said something Sans couldn’t hear over his own incoherent ramblings in...in a language he himself didn’t know. Papyrus had left the room for a few moments before returning and reaching down towards Sans, who let out a loud, desperate cry.

 

“Stop!” Sans looked up, tears obscuring the vision of his brother, it looked like someone entirely different, “Don’t hurt me, I love you!” Sans screamed, stopping for a moment to ponder over those words, unsure as to why he would say that and yet utterly repulsed at the fact he did.

 

Papyrus looked about as terrified as he felt, grabbing his cell phone and mumbling something to the person on the other end of the line before turning to comfort him, “Brother don’t cry, I won’t hurt you, please don’t cry.”

 

For some reason, something deep in his mind was telling him to reassure Papyrus that everything was fine.

 

Everything  _ is _ fine.

 

There was no reason for him to cry so why was he?

 

“It’s ok, Paps. It’s ok, I’m fine.” He spoke, voice soft and timid, entirely unlike him.

 

This statement was responded to with a look of disbelief and bewilderment, “No, Sans. No, you’re not okay and you haven’t been okay for a while now.”

 

“What are you talking about Paps?”

 

“Don’t you see, Sans?” He started, “You’re always like this, over the strangest things. Just last week you attacked an innocent monster- and the week before you were threatening to jump into the core!” He stopped, taking in a sharp breath, “You’re not well, Sans.”

 

“But I’m...fine. I go out and have friends-”

 

“You drink at Grillby’s entirely too often. I’ve been picking you up every night for the past  _ month _ , Sans.” He whispered, “You never drink this much.”

 

“Just havin’ a little too much fun-”

 

“Sans, I’m not an idiot!” Yelled Papyrus, immediately looking ashamed, “You...you cry at night. You scream about  _ dad  _ and I didn’t even know we  _ had  _ one.” Papyrus raised a hand and reached out to hold the other’s hand, “Sans, I don’t know why you’re acting this way or what happened but you’re  _ safe _ now, brother.”

 

He wanted to agree, “I know.” He continued, “But I’m not okay and I…I don’t know why. It’s like I’m always being watched by something, I feel  _ trapped _ , Papyrus and I. Don’t. Know. Why!” He ripped his hand away like the touch burned, “I feel  _ disgusting _ and I  _ hate _ the thought of myself and I don’t even know  _ why _ , Paps!” He choked back a sob, “I’m sad  _ all _ the  _ time _ , and no matter what I do it won’t. Go. Away!” He slammed his hands on the floor, “And it’s not  _ fair! _ Why did he do this to me?! Why did he  _ do this to me?! _ ” He screamed, “I  **_hate_ ** him! I hate-!”

  
  


G͔͚̭̦̩̝̣͕͂̔a̳̣̞̗̬ͯ͋ͦ̿͂̒ş̷͔̗͓͓͉͈̯̘̊͆͊ͨ͆̚t̘̟̰͚͉̟͇̩͗ͪ̋e̝̲̱̍̔r̡̛͈̤̦͛̒͂̀ͪͯ͡

 

“Ga…” who was he talking about? Who is this?

 

“Who, Sans?” Asked the fragile voice of Papyrus, “Who did this to you, Sans?”

 

And he didn’t know.

 

He didn’t know.


End file.
